


What the fuck is a Stiles?

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [192]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Evil Gerard Argent, Memory Loss, Mentioned Gerard Argent, Mentioned Kate Argent, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Sad Sheriff Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: `Stiles? ´ he hears the miserable Sheriff, the traitor, say from a distance.`What the fuck is a Stiles? ´ he can’t help but ask, because he’s always hungry for knowledge, always eager to learn more and it seems like something he should know.`It’s you. ´ the alpha says, looking straight at him.





	What the fuck is a Stiles?

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, and welcome to my loony bin. (Posting this now, since during the session of 15Minutes it just wouldn't happen)
> 
> If you aren't familiar with this series, know this, each tale is written in 15Minutes, hence plenty of mistakes and bad writing is found here and so if you can't handle it with grace, leave now and be at peace. Each story is also a small payment to my friends, this one is for my friend who is called for this time around called Acrylic-Alchemist. 
> 
> Now Acrylic-Alchemist wanted a tale where everyone thinks Stiles is dead, but he's alive and he's become a hunter and is out to kill the pack because that's what Gerard wants him to do.

After nearly a month of watching and waiting, the time had _finally_ come. Month spent in the small town neck deep in Supernatural infestation, an infestation he is certain the old-man would send a team out to deal with. 

 The pack he’s been watching and learning all about, was now slowly gathering within the loft that seemed like the place the weak pack gathered in more often than not.

He waits for the whole pack to arrive, he knows the whole pack will gather together for once. It's a special night, a night of remembrance of sorts for lost pack mates, a night that has been in the works for weeks. Some members that he wouldn't have been able to reach without moving on from Beacon Hills once his in Beacon Hills was done, it was most fortunate, too fortunate to be a coincidence; it wasn't uncommon or out of character for Gerard to send him in half-blind even while knowing more than he let on, testing him and his ability to clear a threat in one go.

 Waiting for this particular gathering would ensure that he finished the job his mother had failed to do, and that failure had caused her to die a detail the old-man liked to drill into his head. 

 Unlike his mother who birthed him but who he can't really remember ever being around to raise him, or perhaps it was the brain damage he'd suffered during a failed training mission that made it impossible for him to remember spending any real time with his mother. There were giant gaps in his memories, but Gerard ensured him the past didn't matter only the future did.

 Watching the pack arriving for the gathering, he finds some of the pack members brought food with them, others brought alcohol to consume, others came empty handed.

 The mood of most of the pack mates has dropped as this night drew nearer, visibly so that the whole town appeared to sense it. The town Sheriff, a member of the Hale pack, had taken the next couple of days off of work. 

 The Sheriff  had arrived at dawn with the means of a cab, and he’d been far from sober as he stumbled into the loft. The sight of the Sheriff, still in his uniform, stumbling around drunk should've been amusing to his somewhat childish sense of humour but instead a strange feeling that was not pleasant erupted within him, the feeling made him worry he might be coming down with something.

 The Alpha hadn’t been able to muster even the smallest of smiles all day, all week really and he’d visited the graveyard almost daily. It was a strange sort of dance, everyday the Alpha bought a bunch of lowers and made his way to the graveyard, at times a look of determination upon his face as he walked through the iron gates, only twice managing to actually walk down to one particular row of graves before turning around, with a pained and regretful expression abandoning the flowers by the gate.

 Shaking his head a little, willing himself not to think too much about the Alpha or his stupidly handsome face. He had to focus on his job, to finish the job his mother had failed to do.

 Focusing his mind on the task at hand, waiting for the moment when the whole pack had arrived. Still, he couldn't help but think what a pity it was that he'd be ruining the clean and frankly nice interior of the loft, after all he wouldn’t have minded living there but his grandfather would never allow it, the old geezer wanted to keep him close when he wasn't working. 

 Watching the pack settle within the loft, he once more felt incredibly satisfied with the locations of the tiny cameras he’d set-up in the loft. While memorizing the location of each individual, trying to figure out which member to takedown first and which to be the last to fall, he chews on his lip which would've earned him a slap or a kick by the old-man.

 Gerard wasn't a gentle grandfather, the old-man raised him with a firm hand and the belt was always ready to right him whenever he wasn't at his expected best.

 He wants to get in and out fast, and take a couple of pieces of evidence of his success to the old geezer.

  He’ll do his best not to kill the two hunters in the loft, his grandfather had told him not to kill them but to capture the girl; he was allowed to rough her up, breaking legs and arms was alright but killing her wasn't because Gerard wanted her brought back to him alive. Whatever plans their grandfather had for his cousin, he knew it wouldn't be gentle or nice. No, doubt the old-man was going to use Allison to lure Chris to whatever punishment Gerard wished to rain down on his traitorous ass. 

 Still, even if he's not allowed to kill the traitor-duo, he'd be free of this town soon enough.

 He’s been waiting for weeks for the perfect moment to finally take down if not the whole pack, and if he couldn’t take them all down, then all he could do was hope to takedown the greater part of the pack enough so to drive the Alpha mad with grief,  if he was lucky the Alpha killed him so he wouldn't have to crawl back to Gerard and suffer the wrath of the old-man; the thought of what might happen if he did go back to Gerard without delivering him the news the old man was waiting, he'd rather be dead than go through the torture he'd suffered the last-time he'd failed his grandfather. 

 Taking in a couple of slow, steadying breaths, he finds himself glad that his medication had kicked in and settling the nervous energy that ran beneath his skin constantly. Sure, the medication messed with his moods and ability to sleep, but at moments like these when he was about to face monsters most humans were oblivious too, the calming effect was worth the weight-loss and nightmares.

 Checking his equipment once more, then again just to make sure he was ready to face his enemy, best to be cautious unless he wanted to get killed tonight.

 

**~*~**

 

The dreaded ten-year anniversary of the disappearance of Stiles Stilinski had arrived. The anniversary of the day when Stiles had been declared dead, even without a body found, had arrived which was somehow worse than the ten-years anniversary of Stiles missing was.

 Derek would’ve rather not be aware of the time Stiles had been gone, the anniversary made it that much clearer his own failures to find the Sheriff’s son.

 Although everyone else seemed able, willing, to accept that Stiles was dead Derek simply couldn’t, wouldn’t.

 Stiles just didn’t feel dead, gone, to him and Derek was so sure if Stiles was dead that he’d somehow know it. He’d feel it.

Derek _knew_ , he just _knew_ , that Stiles was _alive_. He was so very certain that Stiles was alive out there somewhere, he could feel it in his bones, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, he knew it in his heart.

Unlike Scott and the others Derek didn’t believe that Stiles had been killed that night when Gerard Argent arranged for Stiles to be taken, and later beat him into a critical condition according to Erica and Boyd who had been witness to the horrors Stiles’ had suffered.

Until Stiles’ remains were found, Derek would continue to believe that Stiles was alive. Until Stiles’ body was found or Gerard Argent appeared and told him that yes Stiles was dead, Derek would continue to spend a great deal of money on trying to find him. Until they could lay Stiles’ body down to rest, Derek would try anything to find Stiles even if it left him feeling weak for months. Until there was an actual body in Stiles grave, until there was a piece of Stiles in the ground, Derek couldn’t and wouldn’t visit Stiles’ grave.

 Derek watches the pack settle in his home, a place he’d never imagined would continue to be the place they gathered even after he stopped being the Alpha of this odd little pack. Some of his pack mates brought food, others alcohol. Scott brought, once again some of Stiles’ favorite movies, some of them might actually be watched later in the night.

 Turning his gaze over to the Sheriff who’d arrived at the loft in the early hours of the mourning, still dressed in his uniform, already drunk and crying was now seated by the window, Derek feels for the man who had only recently lost hope of ever finding his son alive; for years the Sheriff had believed that Stiles was alive, somewhere, and when that belief began to dwindle Derek’s had helped keep it alive but eventually Scott and the others wore the man down.  

 There’s an empty look in the Sheriff’s red-rimmed eyes, the cup of coffee Peter had made him held tightly in his pale hands, Derek can’t even imagine how the Sheriff was able to go on living almost normally during most of the days of the year, it was only on Stiles’ birthday and on the anniversary of his disappearance when the Sheriff regularly broke.

 It doesn’t take long before those who knew Stiles were swapping stories, sharing their memories with those who hadn’t had a chance to know Stiles Stilinski, Derek does enjoy hearing about Stiles but there’s also a bitter sadness to it all that leaves him feeling hollowed out for days. Derek settles next to the Sheriff, Peter sat beside the Sheriff, offering a silent comfort to the man who was crying silent tears while others shared stories about his son.

 Derek is so focused on listening to a story about how Scott and Stiles met that he doesn’t notice the approaching heartbeat, he’s so caught-up in the tale of Stiles and Scott starting their friendship as two little boys on the playground that Derek doesn’t notice the man that approached the loft with an air of solid determination, it isn’t until the loft door opens and thick suffocating smoke fills the room before Derek can even comprehend the fact that the locked door is open once more, he’s barely able to make out a figure wearing a gasmask stepping inside the loft.

 There are shots fire almost immediately, there’s almost immediately a couple of bullets in him that brings him to his knees, and Derek feels stunned more from shock and disbelief than the familiar and horrible pain.

**~*~**

 

There were a couple of days each year when John just couldn’t handle being sober, it was the price of losing his only child. 

The first-two years after his son was taken, John had still held enough hope of finding his son alive that getting drunk on Stiles’ birthday or on the day he was taken, but on the third-year he just needed a drink to help him through the day. Since finally coming to terms with the death of his son, staying sober on the day that marked Stiles birth and disappearance became impossible.

John didn’t care much for these gatherings where Stiles was remembered by the pack, but John was even less keen to give in to the want to join his wife and son in the afterlife, at least he wasn’t keen to die not until he’d put a bullet in Gerard Argent demented head. Surrounded by people made any attempts to end his life very slim, and so there he was surrounded by the pack his son had died trying to protect.

 There was no comfort in the knowledge that his son had died because Stiles chose to protect the likes of Derek Hale, although Erica and Boyd had made an attempt to give him some comfort in the knowledge that his son died a hero there had been none.

While Scott and the others familiar with Stiles exchanged, shared stories about his son, John simply sat by the window overlooking the street with Peter right there beside him. He sits there, a cup of coffee in his shaky hands, crying silently while feeling so incredibly horrible where he sat. Aside from having his son back, all John wanted was another drink, or a pill, or both, anything really to numb the pain and sorrow he felt.

To John’s great dismay Derek Hale had yanked the bottle he’d brought with him, the rich dark liquid that John had used to self-medicate himself after the death of his wife was unceremoniously poured down the drain by the former Alpha. As soon as John had been helped into the loft Peter Hale stole away the bottle of pills he had with him, taking charge of his medication and his gun.

John is so deep in his own misery, he’s so deep in his own thoughts about his son whom he’d failed in more ways than one, that John doesn’t realize that something is wrong not until he’s pushed down to the floor by Peter who yells at him to stay down.  

 There’s smoke everywhere, it’s hard to breathe and his eyes sting. There are shots fired and even in John’s slightly dazed state, he can still tell that whoever it is that is shooting does so with a clear purpose, there’s no chaotic gunfire but rather a methodical one, this is not some green-eared little hunter they are dealing with and that’s enough to make John feel very afraid for the safety of the wolves.

 He watches helplessly as Peter is gunned down, the werewolf hadn’t been heading towards the hunter but his daughter who had dropped to her knees clutching her abdomen. 

 John cries out to Peter, unwilling to believe that the werewolf who had come back from the dead once could be taken down like this, and it’s only as the figure dressed in black, face covered by the mask that made it easier for this murdered to breathe that John realizes his mistake.

 John readies himself to face his maker, and although most men would fear death John almost welcomes it now, as it finally will help him rejoin his family even if it means that Gerard Argent will never pay for what he did to Stiles.

 But the hunter tilts his head curiously to one side, a moment of something there before he shakes his head, but before the hunter is able to fire a single bullet into John’s broken heart Scott appears bloodied and furious.

 The man with deadly intent is knocked to the floor, the gun goes flying from his gloves hand which prompts a wheezing and coughing Allison to hurry on after it. The hunter, skilled as he is, manages to escape Scott’s hold but in that moment the young Alpha rips the mask off of this stranger who had entered the loft with ill intent.  

 The face John and Scott face suddenly is familiar, but it’s also so very different from the one they both remember.

 `Stiles? ´ John croaks in disbelief as he takes in the scruffy looking face, there’s no childish youth left upon this face that is covered in a scruffy looking beard and messy hairy, and yet even though this person is a stranger to him it is still his son.

 A familiar set of eyes gazes at him, just as Scott whisper out in the same air of disbelief and shock that John had, `Stiles? ´

 Taking clear advantage of Scott’s moment of stunned stillness, the figure dressed in black from head to toe makes a move towards Scott, the pained gasp that follows from Scott is one that sends a chill through John.

 `What the fuck is a Stiles? ´ Stiles asks, his body pressed-up close to Scott’s own, so much so that they could surely both feel each-others breaths.

 `It's you. ´ John hears Derek say, but he also hears Scott declare, `You are. ´ 

 


End file.
